The Dark Side of the Wall
by advidartist
Summary: In Soviet Russia all you know is darkness, there is no love and no kindness. Especially when your a prisoner, and especially when your Eastern Germany. A country that the world wants dead but refuses to die. Until an old friend joins the union. PruHun!
1. Chapter 1

**The Dark Side of the Wall**

**Chapter One**

It was cold that winter, colder then most in Soviet Russia. Elizabeta shivered as she made her way to Russia's house, pulling her thin coat tighter around her, listening to the icy wind ripple in her ears, and the snow crunch under he boots. She had to speak to Ivan about her heating arrangement, having spent the last few nights freezing and refused to put up with it much longer, not too mention her consistent shortages of food.

She could already hear Ivan's answer in her head, "The reason you freeze at night is because you lack man to sleep beside you, da?"

She had to try at least, she wouldn't live much longer if she kept silent. Even so, the silenced whispers of Russia's reign coming to an end brought hope, but only so much.

Rounding the block she saw a shadow sitting in the entrance of a dark alley. The figure had snow white hair, a military uniform once blue and crisp now ragged and gray, dark lines and shadows where etched into his face and caved in cheeks. What caught Hungary's eye was how familiar he looked. In all her years in the Soviet Union she had never seen someone she knew before the war, until now.

"Gilbert?" she timidly asked.

At first she was met with silence, but eventually he stirred and she was greeted by the familiar red eyes of Prussia.

"Hey Liza," he said in a cracked voice. "Never thought I'd see you here."

"Same, you look awful!" Awful was merely an understatement, he looked horrible, like he had been dragged through hell again and again yet somehow still lived.

"I feel awful, haven't eaten in days. How are you?"

"I've been better, just struggling to make ends meet. I thought you where dead." It was then she realized her heart was fluttering, like hummingbird wings. It had been so long since it had done so and she welcomed the feeling and the warmth it brought in her chest. It gave her hope, no matter how small it was.

"I'm as good as dead. My empire is gone, my military, my people, my land, even my own brother. I'm nobody. I'm just someone the world wants dead but refuses to die." It was just as he finished speaking that coughs began to rack his body.

Elizabeta's heart wept for him. She felt she had to do something, anything to help him. Knowing the extent of Ivan's cruelty she extended out her hand, offering it to him, along with her heart.

He gazed at it, then her, not sure what she was offering him. It had been a long time since anyone had shown him kindness. "Do you need a place to stay?" she asked gently.

"No," he said, averting his gaze.

"You need help Gilbert."

"Help is for the weak," he curtly responded, procuring a near empty bottle of cheap vodka from his torn jacket.

"You just said you haven't eaten in days, your sleeping in alleyways in the middle of winter, and your obviously sick. Face it Gilbert you need help. There is no shame in it," she said as calmly as she could, having forgotten how bigoted he could be.

Gilbert swallowed the remaining thimbleful of vodka then tossed it aside, taking in Elizabeta's words.

"I hate Vodka," he said. "I haven't had a good beer in years."

"I know," she responded, understanding his misery and longing for home.

"No you don't!" he snapped.

"Yes I do!" she snapped back, her patience thinning. "Your not the only one stuck in the Soviet Union, your not the only whose starving, your not the only one whose freezing at night, your not the only one who is far from those you love."

She paused to take a breath. "Your not the only one."

A sigh escaped from Gilbert's lips, when in truth he was swallowing his pride, or at least what was left of it.

Using the alley wall as a support he stood on wobbly legs. Noticing Elizabeta still held out her hand for him he shyly took it, letting her lead him back to the place where she stayed.

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><p>AN: Who else loves Prussia? Truth be told he is my latest and greatest obsession!

This is an attempt at a dark story, which is why it is set in soviet Russia. But being the romantic I am I had to include romance and also because I ship PrussiaXHungary. Also this story is not entirely historically accurate, I just took events and facts in history and played with them to create this story, which originally started as an RP with a friend.

Hope you enjoyed, please pretty please review! Let me know what you think, I adore all sorts of feedback! You can expect an update around next month, if all goes well maybe sooner. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

**The Dark Side of the Wall**

**Chapter Two**

He didn't ask for any food when they got back to her house, just to use her bathroom. Pointing him to the restroom she dug through her pantry, hoping to find something extra for him to eat. Feeling her own stomach growl she was happy when she found some old potatoes, which she hastily put in a pot to boil.

As the gas in the stove sputtered to life she caught the sound of the bathroom water running. Finding herself at a loss of things to do and curiosity taking the better of her she peered into the crack of the slightly ajar bathroom door.

She found Gilbert bent over the sink, washing the street grime from his face. His shirt was removed with his bare back facing her. Her eyes widened at what she saw, fresh angry red scars marred his back crisscrossing over older wounds. It looked painful, making her own back muscles twitch.

Turning off the water he straightened his posture and caught sight of her in the mirror's reflection. His pale face was a motley of emotions.

"Ivan?" she asked timidly, concern written on her face.

"Can you think of any other Commie bastard who would?" he said gruffly shrugging his shirt back on.

Elizabeta sighed silently. _He was never one to open up. _"Can I ask why he would?"

Gilbert painfully cleared his throat before answering. "Its because I won't do as he says, because I won't submit." He turned away from her coughing harshly into his hand, hiding what his palm held.

"Why won't you? Your only hurting yourself Gilbert!" She could easily see that he was in pain, in more ways then one. She didn't mean to sound submissive and obedient, she just didn't want to see him so hurt and broken.

"Does it look like I care?" he retorted.

"Well you should! Last time I checked your brother was waiting for you on the other side of the wall. Imagine how he would feel if he tore it down to find you dead because of your stupid pride and ignorance!" She didn't realize how defensive she was getting, then again Ludwig wouldn't be the only one devastated by Gilbert's death.

"Luddy will be fine, I'm just an annoying sibling to him. Why do you care so much anyway? The minute that vodka loving idiot lets you go you'll be running back to that Austrain ass like you always do!" he retorted once more, this time with anger apparent in his voice.

Elizabeta wanted to hit him, punch him, knock some sense into him. Her fingers itched for the handle of her cast iron frying pan that she so often wielded. Yet she restrained herself. Her only weapon was her words now. "Would you just shut up Gilbert! Roderich and I are over! We've been divorced for decades now! Everyone seems to know that but you!"

"Oh please! You said yourself that your far from those you _love_!"

"I was talking about my friends, of course you wouldn't know what I was talking about since you don't have any. Your only ally was your brother and frankly it seems that was the only reason why! Ever since I've met you Gilbert you've been this arrogant, narcissistic asshole , who just gets on every bodies nerves."

Just as she finished speaking the water on the stove began to boil over, starchy white foam hissing as it spilled over onto the burner.

Elizabeta rushed to the kitchen, turning down the heat, letting the boil slowly subside. Turning away from the stove she found Gilbert standing right behind her. His face was impossible to read and Elizabeta felt her breath catch in her throat. Gazing directly at her he only said, "Why do you care so much?"

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><p>AN: And that is the second chapter! Hope you enjoyed! Don't know when I can update again, hopefully soon! Until then please enjoy and leave a review! All feedback is welcome! Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

**The Dark Side of the Wall**

**Chapter 3  
><strong>

"Why do you care so much?"

Those six words resonated throughout the silence of the room and Elizabeta's mind. She found herself speechless. Why did she care? Why did she care so much about the man that annoyed her for years and that for so long was considered nothing more then a nuisance.

Opening her mouth she said the only thing she could say, the truth. "I care because its the right thing to do, because no one deserves Ivan's cruelty, not even you."

His gaze seemed to soften at her words. Yet she continued, " I understand your drive to defy him, but there are people out there that care about you. I know it may be hard but you'll have to swallow your pride and do what is best to live, to survive. No matter what happens you need to live Gilbert, you just need to!"

His crimson eyes became downcast in an almost tragic manner. Elizabeta's heart filled with dread as he spoke the following words, "That's what people who have a future ahead of them believe. That is what I would believe if I had the option."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm dying Liza, I've been dying for awhile. Whats the point of kissing anyone's ass when no matter what I do, no matter what happens I'll end up dead." It was then he showed her the blood in his palm, the blood he coughed up. The living liquid his body rejected.

Elizabeta felt as if an ice cold hand was squeezing her heart, treating it as if it was nothing more then a child's toy. "No! What are you talking about? You can't die! Your the one that is supposed to be overly confident when there's no reason to be! The one that's supposed to say everything will be alright when it won't!"

She didn't realize her hands where gripping his shirt, shaking him, begging him to tell her the truth was a lie.

Her thoughts and words where cut off completely when she felt his lips press against hers. The only thing she could do was kiss him back, creating several moments of much needed bliss.

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><p>AN: Hello all sorry about the delay. I have been super busy lately with graduation and exams and all that stuff. I'm actually supposed to be studying right now, but I thought you guys deserved an update. I also want to apologize for the shortness of this chapter, for some reason I just wrote it out like this. I hoped you enjoyed please don't forget to review, i love to hear your thoughts and opinion! Expect an update around next month.

Random thought: Does anyone know when the English dubbed version of the third season of Hetalia or Hetalia World Series will be out on DVD?


	4. Chapter 4

**The Dark Side of the Wall**

**Chapter 4  
><strong>

Elizabeta awoke the next morning to find a beam of dull sunlight filtering through murky glass window and a sleeping Gilbert beside her. She didn't care that they where both naked and that what they had done was dishonorable. All that she cared about was the feeling of his heart steadily resonating within his chest, the warmth of being in his arms, and that these peaceful moments where theirs no matter how brief.

She gazed at his milky, pale face which was calm as he slept. Was his skin always so deathly pale?

Her fingers curiously danced across his chest which had been marred by countless scars from centuries of war. It was then it occurred to her that he had been born a warrior. He was the country of Prussia, a descendant of Germania. He led a life that was marked by countless wars and battles. No wonder he refused to submit to Russia, all he knew was resisting, fighting, and conquering. He was Gilbert Beilschmidt and he would fight to the death.

She buried her face in the crook of his chest, taking in his musky scent, and relishing the peaceful silence that surrounded them. Gilbert stirred slightly and she felt his fingers in her voluptuous hair and his cheek against her forehead. She never wanted these moments to end.

The silence shattered like glass when pounding erupted from the rapping of someones fist against the front door. Elizabeta shot up out of the bed, her heart matching the beats of the one who demanded entrance. She grabbed her dress that had been discarded on the floor the night before and shoved it over her head. Gilbert stirred on the bed, still half asleep and unaware of what was going on.

Elizabeta's feet carried her downstairs and to the front door in a quick blur. Seeing the large silhouette the through the shabby curtains her stomach dropped. She didn't want to open the door fearing what she would let into her home. Yet a shaking hand reached out and turned the doorknob as if she was a marianet controlled by a cruel puppeteer.

The door swung open with a cold gust of wind rushing over her tired body and there stood Ivan Braginski, smiling as always. "Miss Hungary," he spoke. "You forgot to pay your heating bill yesterday, da?"

Elizabeta inwardly cursed herself. She had promised she would pay it yesterday but had become preoccupied with Gilbert and it slipped her mind. Now the last thing she ever wanted had happened, Soviet Russia was at her front door demanding money that she didn't have. Not too mention the fact that his prisoner was upstairs in her own bed.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered out. "I got preoccupied with something else."

She felt Ivan's sadistic lilac eyes move up and down her disheveled form. Her dress was wrinkled everywhere with buttons undone and one sleeve hanging low exposing the bare skin of her right shoulder. Her hair was ratty and knotted, her legs and feet where bare and much to Ivan's surprise she wore no brassier either.

Still smiling he said, "I trust you where warm last night, da?"

Elizabeta had no response, she just stood there motionless and embarrassed as Ivan gaped at her. The creaky steps of the stairwell tore Ivan's gaze from her as Gilbert descended the stairs and entered the room just as poorly dressed and disheveled as herself yet fully awake. She saw Ivan's brows furrow upon seeing him and wished Gilbert had stayed upstairs. It was too late now.

"Beilschimdt!," Ivan angrily spat. "I thought I locked you up!"

"Well you tried," Gilbert began in his usual mocking tone. "But the locks where so cheap they fell apart at the first sign of a fight."

Ivan's glare became menacing if not murderous. Hungary's heart dropped, it was all too clear that Ivan had every intention of killing him.

"Will you ever learn Beilschmidt? The sooner you do the longer you live." Ivan cracked the knuckles of his large gloved hands. Gilbert stood his ground, his gaze deadly and his stance strong and fearless, even if he was about to face the firing squad.

"Fuck off you Vodka-loving bastard! I am Eastern Germany, the awesome state of Prussia! I would rather die then be a Soviet Union coward!" Gilbert practically shouted in defiance.

"As you wish!" sneered Ivan, before chaos engulfed the room.

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><p>AN: This is my favorite chapter! You can probably tell since i put more work into it...and because I felt the need to improve my writing technique overall. I don't know when I will update again but hopefully it will be soon, until then please be patient...as well as review! Thank you!

Random thought: Does anyone know when the English dubbed version of the third season of Hetalia or Hetalia World Series will be out on DVD?


	5. Chapter 5

**The Dark Side of the Wall**

**Chapter 5**

A drain pipe appeared in Ivan's hands. It swung throughout the room in a series of shiny gray blurs, its sole objective to get Gilbert on his knees. Yet so far it remained off by a thin inch due to Gilbert's quick feet. Ivan marched around the room like a bloodthirsty lion in pursuit of its weakened albino prey.

Elizaveta had tried to plunge herself into the fray in hopes of helping Gilbert, but every time she did so both of the men would roughly push her away. In either an effort to protect her or to keep her out of the way. Eventually she found herself rushing to the kitchen to fetch her frying pan.

But as her hand found the handle of the cast iron skillet a loud 'THWACK!' resonated throughout the house.

With her heart pounding in her chest she rushed back to the front room where the scrimmage was taking place. Her stomach dropped when her emerald eyes met the sight of Gilbert on the floor, pain written across his face and his his hand clenching a bloody dislocated shoulder. Ivan stood over him maliciously and slowly raised his pipe once more, Gilbert's skull in its sight.

"NO!" Elizaveta screamed**. **Stepping into the fray she swung her frying pan with all her might aiming for the Russian's head.

Ivan caught her wrist in midair and held it with a crushing force. She struggled in his grasp, but he made it clear that he wasn't letting her go. The anger in his lilac eyes terrified her to no end.

The cold steel of his pipe softly grazed her jaw in a way that sent shivers up and down her spine. "Why do share your bed and risk your life for something so weak? You shouldn't waste your efforts on Beilschimdt, he's nothing! A woman such as yourself deserves better. Such as me, da?"

A sadistic smirk appeared on his face, one that eyed her body as if it was a mere possession to be used and tossed aside once soiled, having served its purpose. She could hear Gilbert snarl in her defense, "Get your filthy hands off of her you bastard!"

"So she does mean something to you," Ivan voiced his realization before crushing his lips against Elizaveta's in a most unwelcome manner. His grip on her wrist instinctively loosened, allowing her frying pan to finally meet his skull with a gong.

Ivan flinched in pain, having been set back on his heels. From then on it was rage controlling him, pushing Elizaveta away, then grabbing her and throwing her against the wall with such force that it appeared as if she was crippled once she crumbled to the floor.

Elizaveta's whole body ached and screamed in pain. She felt for her frying pan but found it nowhere in sight. She was defenseless, unarmed, weak, vulnerable, and above all afraid. For both their lives.

She slowly raised her emerald eyes from the floor to the scene before her. Gilbert's crimson orbs where filled with rage, a rage that she had never seen in him before.

Somehow he had found the strength to stand once more. How he did so she didn't know, but yet there he stood. Setting the Russian back on his heels once more as he threw quick hard punches.

Was he doing this for her?

She could see it in his eyes that he had every intention of ending Ivan if fate was kind enough to deem it possible.

The German possessed the will and the drive. The only thing the Russian possessed was power and therefore the upper hand. Eventually Ivan's hands found his u-trap pipe once more. Using only a mere portion of his strength he swung it once more and German blood pooled on the Hungarian's floor.

The violent red color seeped into and stained the locks of Gilbert's snow white hair and he found himself once more at Ivan's feet and mercy.

He heard his Elizaveta scream his name as black dots swirled before his now hazy vision. He felt Ivan's hands at his throat and his natural breath become ragged and forced. He saw the Russian's sadistic smile and tall shadow loom over him.

"There's no point in resisting me Beilschmidt."

Harsh coughs shook his broken form as he fought unconsciousness, his throat and body begging for the sweetness of oxygen. Blood trickled down from the corners of his mouth and across his chin, accentuating the paleness of his skin.

"You've lost everything...even her."

The pressure of Ivan's hands on his throat worsened and blood rushed to his face. He could feel the release of death nearing.

The dark shadow was approaching, intent on the reaping of his soul.

Yet he felt the warmth of her green emeralds on him and he knew he couldn't die. Not here, not now, not in front of her. He was a dead man that was dying, that he knew. Despite what Ivan said he still had her, after centuries of hidden longing she was his at last and he was going to die her's, but not like a dog for those bright emeralds to see.

"Leave him alone Ivan!" her voice protested.

The pressure on his throat lessened a small degree and he filled his lungs with whatever he could get.

"Don't bother yourself with this useless country...as I said before; he's nothing, and he will die soon enough."

Gilbert's vision slowly returned, but only with a slight blur. His eyes opened, revealing a strong fire. Ivan did not fail to notice the resistance in his orbs.

Would this defeated country ever quite?

"Please Gilbert," Elizaveta begged. "You promised me."

Their eyes met across the room. Tears welled in her eyes and he longed to take her in his arms and wipe the salt away. But yet an iron curtain hung between them and Gilbert was never one to deny reality's harsh truths.

Cold steel loomed over his head once more, Elizaveta screamed, and more German blood was spilled that morning.

"I'm sorry Liza."

* * *

><p>AN: OK first off...this is not the last chapter there are still more to come. I don't know when I will update again, but hopefully it will be soon especially now that it is summer holiday.

This is not historically accurate in the slightest, its just me expressing my fangirlism through my writing. But I do hope my inaccurate sense of reality entertains you in whatever way possible.

Till next time please review and try to answer the bolded question below. Thanks!

**Does anyone know when the English dubbed version of the third season of Hetalia or Hetalia World Series will be out on DVD?**


	6. Chapter 6

**The Dark Side of the Wall**

**Chapter 6**

From his days as a Teutonic Knight to his final days as an independent country he was always intrigued by the country called Hungary, the one called Elizaveta. Even when they where young and they both had the impression that she was a boy. Her strength and her deep green eyes where always admirable,

He couldn't remember the last time they had been this close. Whenever it was it was a long time ago when they where young and very good friends. As they grew older they grew apart, she became involved with Austria's affairs and him with his own as well as his brother's.

Gilbert couldn't help but think of how far he had come over the many centuries that he had been alive and how it only took a few months for him to loose everything he had worked for. This very thought was a continuous painful stab in his gut, but yet as he held Elizaveta in his arms...everything seemed alright.

Her hands mingled in his messy white hair as they laid together that night. Before this he could have only dreamed of it all without taking the risk of being hit upside the head by a frying pan.

Elizaveta's lips where soft and tender against his rough chapped ones, and her body was warm and inviting. It saddened them both that this bliss would be short lived. Yet he relished in it all, taking in everything he could, committing it to memory.

"Promising me something Gilbert?" a warmth breath gently whispered in his ear.

"Promise what?" he muttered, his lips on her neck.

"Promise me that you'll live, that you'll keep trying to live, no matter what happens."

He sighed into her shoulder. "Don't ask this of me Liza. Until that wall comes down, I won't be able to make any promises. I'll only disappoint you."

"Please," she begged. "For me."

Several moments of silent tension hung in the air before he nodded in agreement. Their cheeks grazing one another's tentatively and Elizaveta could feel his rough peach-fuzz of a beard as she let out a small sigh of relief.

_In Soviet Russia...there is no guarantee when German blood flows through your veins._

()()()()()()()()()()

He froze in the dark stale air. His bones creaked, right on the verge of shattering in their joints. His head pounded like an unrelenting sledgehammer keeping its beat. His body shook, protesting against the pain within and the freezing air around him. His torn clothes did almost next to nothing, except cover his bleak form.

Manacles bit into his wrists, chafing the skin underneath as they held him steadfast against the wall. Silence was his only companion, with the occasional water droplets falling from the pipes overhead, the clinks and clanks of the links of his bonds, the growls of his empty stomach, and the rough throaty protests of his cough accompanied by his own shallow breathing.

He found himself counting and timing the drip drops of the water, having been forced at a loss of anything to do. However, it soon occurred him that he was most likely in Ivan's basement. Judging by the pipes overhead and the water seeping through everything it had to be a sub-level room. If it wasn't Ivan's he had no idea who else it was or could be. After all, it was really only Ivan who now wanted him dead.

He did not know how long he had been here. His last memory was that of blinding pain before he completely faded out of Elizaveta's presence and awakened a time later within pitch darkness, which he had now deemed a true frozen hell.

His sense of time was lost, as well as his vision, his freedom, his strength, his country...and now her.

Gilbert cursed that Russian bastard with every capable fiber in his body if Ivan had committed an unspeakable act against her for harboring him, a fugitive. If he did he had no way of knowing. Then again, no news is good news...right?

Elizaveta's warmth and kindness was a mere distant memory to this frozen hell he now endured.

What he would give to feel her kind touch again.

What he would give to be free in his homeland once more.

What he would give to see a bullet put through that Commie Bastard's head.

Out of all the people, the countries he could blame for his misery. He saw Ivan as the source of it all. If it wasn't for the Russian, who insisted he be treated as one not worth the dirt beneath his boots, Gilbert would have already made it to the wall, to his freedom, his home, and his brother. He had almost did, but the wall was too strong, too impenetrable against the weakened state. It was then that Elizaveta found him and rekindled whatever was left of him. Yet despite everything he found himself back where he started, now chained like a dog with locks he couldn't hope to pick.

Two steps forward and four steps back, the story of his life.

An eternity soon passed. His eyelids grew heavy and his body evermore weary. He fell asleep hanging in his bonds, leaning against the freezing wall, and hoping for dreams of Elizaveta.

A lantern was soon flicked on, its sudden bright rays forcing him to cringe away from the light. A gloved hand grazed his chin, grabbing his neck to force the heavy white eyelids open. Gilbert's breath was caught as a familiar sadistic smirk met his dreary crimson eyes.

What he would give to put a bullet through that Commie Bastard's head.

* * *

><p>AN: Yeah I didn't kill him, sorry if I fooled you there but I cannot resist a good cliffhanger in my stories. The first section of this chappie is a flashback to the night they spent together before everything went to hell, if anyone was confused there. Why do I torture the awesome Prussia? I don't know, then again this story is based off of me and my friend's roleplay scenario and the whole dungeony part of it was her idea...and the romance was mine. lol. anyway I'll try to update soon, hopefully within the next couple of days. Also sorry about the delay, I've been awfully busy.

This is not historically accurate in the slightest, its just me expressing my fangirlism through my writing. But I do hope my inaccurate sense of reality entertains you in whatever way possible.

I OWN NOTHING AND MAKE NO PROFIT!

Till next time please review and try to answer the bolded question below. Thanks!

**Does anyone know when the English dubbed version of the third season of Hetalia or Hetalia World Series will be out on DVD?**

Also f*** technology! I had to retype this chapter several times before it let me save it, and the first draft was absolutely perfect!**  
><strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**The Dark Side of the Wall**

**Chapter 7**

Gilbert choked down what he thought was a mix of blood and vomit.

Another swift to his gut brought it back up again.

"What are you?" the Russian chided.

"East Germany," he choked out.

More blows reigned down on him like giant hailstones.

"When will you learn? You are too weak. You are no longer Germany. You are part of Soviet Russia. You are nothing," Ivan's rage was immeasurable and went to infinite proportions. Gilbert didn't know how much longer he could last, but giving up was not an option.

It was then the contents of Gilbert's stomach emptied, this time into Ivan's face. His defiance un-relentless. With his promise to Elizaveta broken, his pride commanded it of him.

It had occurred to him that Ivan had threatened to kill him, but never followed through. He didn't have the balls to take a life. Gilbert had always suspected it of him, but now his suspicions where confirmed. Russia wouldn't kill him, he would just make him wish he was dead.

He would live. Russia was falling apart. His frequent beatings of the ex-nation had become ways of relieving stress. The wall would be down soon and the beatings would end, he would be free. The Prussian was certain of it.

Ivan wiped the multicolored slop from his face, which was as solid as stone, rage carved into every single crease and crevice. Giant gloved hands where at the german's throat, fingertips digging into the tender flesh as if to tear the esophagus to shreds.

Gilbert struggled for air as his air pipe was forcefully closed. The chains above him rattled in desperation for the precious oxygen. Black dots soon swirled before his eyes.

Would Ivan really kill him?

Gilbert felt his leg move on its own, kicking the Russian away with a blow to his stomach. Ivan released his grip as he curled away, nursing his bruised stomach. Coughs roared through Gilbert once more as oxygen slowly re-entered his system. His feeble body limp in its manacled hold.

Strong hands gripped his silver locks, yanking his head back, forcing him to meet Ivan's cold lilac gaze.

"How is it you are so weak yet still won't break?" said Ivan through gritted teeth.

A few raspy breaths escaped his lips as he raised his eyelids toward Russia. Ivan didn't show it, but the bright crimson fire in the ex-nation's eyes took him by surprise.

"Because I'm too awesome to be broken." A few more forced breaths. "and there are people waiting for me…outside of this hellhole you call home."

Ivan snickered. "Where is your brother?" he teased. "Its been nearly forty years and has he ever dared to show his face on my side of the wall. After all…last I heard he was doing fine. His country great and prosperous with its own wealth. Apparently he doesn't need you anymore, if he ever did."

The Russian's words where a stab in his chest. The truth was painful, but it was the truth nonetheless.

"Then again I'm not surprised," Ivan continued. "Why would you acknowledge a weak elder sibling, whose nothing but a thorn in your side and a bad reputation for your family?"

Another shaky breath. "At least I'm not the only weak one is this room!" Gilbert retorted.

Silence filled the room. Did Ivan give up? Had he left?

Rough hands suddenly tugged at the threads of Gilbert's shirt, tearing and shredding it from his skin until his chest was bare. He shivered in the cold air as he heard metal scrape against stone as Ivan fetched something from the corner of the room. The next thing he knew he was covered in ice from the tip of his head to the beginnings of his belt line, from Ivan dumping a bucket of cold water on him.

"You may think you are worth something Beilschimdt, but believe me when I say that you are the one who won't live to see the end of the Soviet Union."

Then he was alone, frozen in his misery.

* * *

><p>AN: hello again everyone! finally back from summer vaca! as hard as it is to believe I actually missed working. not that this counts as working, but its something i do during work/school to keep me occupied. But nevertheless I wanted to get this written and posted before the flurry of a new school year began, which for me is moving into my college dorm, freshman orientation, and all that jazz. So please let know what you think, what you enjoyed, what you hated. Anything really, just review! Thanks for staying with me, hope you enjoyed! See ya soon!


	8. Chapter 8

**The Dark Side of the Wall**

**Chapter 8**

The days blurred together in a never-ending web of darkness. Every single cough that heaved forth from his chest was followed by a trickle of blood from the corner of his lips.

His death was near and he knew it, he only wished he would be in his homeland when the time finally came. His life of battle and war forced him to conquer any fear he held of death long ago and now a part of him looked forward to it, finding it as a release from his pain and misery.

Out of the darkness a thin stream of light appeared from the top of a nearby stairwell. He cringed from the light, having now become foreign to him.

He heard the sounds of someone shakily stumble down the stairs as the heavy door was closed and bolted once more. He slowly reopened his eyes to find a shaking brunette fumbling with the wicker of an old lantern.

"Lithuania?" he asked, his voice rough from misuse. Gilbert had never been close with the baltic, but he knew him from many years of war, alliances, and whatnot.

"Prussia? Your still alive? Everyone…I mean Mr. Russia has been saying your dead" said the Baltic, a sense of surprise in his quiet voice.

"I'm as good as," he replied, recalling how he said those similar words to Elizaveta not long ago, even though it seemed like a completely different life. A pang of sadness and longing rushed through him, but he kept it hidden.

"Miss Hungary has been over a lot lately. She's been asking Mr. Russia about you," Lithuania stuttered, as if he was reading Gilbert's mind.

"She has?" Gilbert responded, surprised.

"From what I overheard in Mr. Ivan's office, yes she has. Mr. Ivan keeps telling her he already killed you but she doesn't believe it…and she has good reason too," he said eyeing Gilbert.

Gilbert let out a shaky groan. While he secretly adored the fact that she cared about him, he didn't want her to start crying over a dead country when he actually did die. He wasn't worth her tears.

"Why?" he found himself demanding.

"Because…" the trembling baltic began.

"Because what?" Gilbert cut in impatiently.

"Because she loves you," Toris finally blurted out.

Gilbert never thought he would hear those words on the dark side of the wall, especially when they concerned him. Nevertheless he was taken by surprise.

"How do you know? he asked.

"She told me. Apparently your all she has now…she just doesn't wanna see you die. Now I don't know your entire story but you need to live…for her. She needs you more then you know."

Gilbert's heart sank. He might as well be wearing a countdown clock on his chest and she would still be pushing the buttons to get it to stop, even though it would eventually be in vain.

Taking in a breath he said, "When you see her again and Russia's not around, tell her I'm still breathing…and I'm alright."

"But you don't look alright at all," Toris shyly stated.

"Just tell her and give her some piece of mind for once!"

"Alright I will," he said calmly, unable to read the German's expression.

He didn't like the thought of lying to the kind lady that was Elizaveta and how this gruff, arrogant, half-dead man had won her attentions and heart was beyond him. But how could he deny a dying man's request.

* * *

><p>AN: I've decided to make it a goal of mine to finish this story before school begins. School starts in eight days, so I don't know if its possible but I figured its worth a shot. Theres only a couple more chapters left, all of which are pre-written, they just need to be typed and edited...which is the most time consuming part.

So anyway...now that you have read please leave a review via the button below. I would love to know YOUR opinion about the quality and content of this chapter. I hope you enjoyed reading my story! Thanks! Till next time! :)


	9. Chapter 9

**The Dark Side of the Wall**

**Chapter 9**

According to Toris three days had soon passed. Gilbert found that hard to believe but due to his current state, he had no choice but too.

Within that timespan Lithuania was fed. A small plate of moldy potatoes, stale bread, and wilted lettuce leaves arrived one day. The small portion sizes showed its intention for being _only_ eaten by the baltic. But yet the Prussian's mouth couldn't help but water at the sight of food.

His crimson eyes met Lithuania's and moments later the meager portions where divided and with Gilbert's instruction Toris had carefully picked a single lock of Prussia's manacles. Rendering a single free arm and giving him the dignity of feeding himself.

The freedom of his wrist felt odd, almost unnatural even. _Does a dog become adjusted to its leash? _

He nibbled on a piece of moldy potato, its chewed contents hitting the bottom of his empty stomach like a rock. He had forgotten how long it had been since he had the luxury of food.

The remainder of his potato piece was washed down by a few of the wilted lettuce leaves, as Lithuania began to recollect to him what was going on in the outside world.

The Soviet Union was reaching its end. The people where in revolt, whispers ran throughout Eastern Europe that one or another country will soon break away from the union. The world was more then ready to move on, while Ivan's motherland was not. Ivan was falling apart and refused to admit to his impending failure. Western Germany was beating on the wall, hoping to reunite the germanic nations. While America just wanted to end the communist system and claim to be the hero of the world once more.

It will all end soon.

Gilbert inwardly smiled when Toris spoke the sentence about Ludwig. Ivan had previously denied any hope that Ludwig was trying to help him, but Lithuania's words proved him wrong. "I'll show that Commie bastard!" he thought to himself with a smirk.

As a warm sense of hope rose in his chest Ivan's words still rang in his head, "…you are the one who won't live to see the end of the Soviet Union."

Praying to his forbidden God, he hoped Russia's words would be a lie.

The three days soon passed and Toris was released, leaving Gilbert alone once more. His free wrist was re-shackled to spare them both from a possible beating. Toris was kind enough to leave the lamp on for him, which burned out after several hours. Leaving the Prussian in darkness once more.

Hours soon passed, maybe even days. The world to him was now a thin line between being awake and slumber. Any great length of time span was marked by Ivan's visits, where he would practice swinging his pipe.

Fresh gashes and bruises marred his milky white skin. At one point he realized that he was numb to every blow the Russian rained on him, but it didn't stop the beatings. Nothing could stop Ivan's cruelty.

"Why won't you break?" Ivan snarled through gritted teeth.

Gilbert, limp in his bonds, said nothing. The corners of his lips slowly turned upward, forming a familiar devilish smirk, his smirk.

Despite his pain, humiliation, agony, and even impending death he was still strong. He would never break. Despite the odds stacked against him Gilbert was winning and it made Ivan's blood boil. He had forgotten how awesome it was to be the victor in _any_ battle. He would not loose to Ivan and his mind games. He was too awesome for it.

Ivan's fist collided with his jaw. Gilbert's brain shook in is skull, but his smile remained unwavering. More blows soon followed, yet he felt nothing. The only noise he made was that of a small chuckle as Ivan stormed up the stairs for what would be the final time.

He'd won at last.

Hours passed and he soon lost consciousness once more. He dreamt of kind warm hands caressing his face, soft sweet lips meeting his, and a familiar voice speaking his name. It all seemed so real, the only thing that was missing where her green eyes.

"Gilbert?" the voice spoke again. "You need to wake up."

It had to be a dream. Would she really come for him down here?

Pain slowly returned to his limbs. Gears clicked in their locks. He felt himself falling and warm arms embracing him.

"Its me Gilbert, please open your eyes!" the voice pleaded.

Was it really her?

Fighting exhaustion he coaxed his eyes open. He found himself on the floor, free of his bonds, his head in Elizaveta's lap as she smiled down at him.

He still didn't know if this was a dream or not. None of it seemed possible.

She began to open her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. Pulling her face down to his, kissing her as hard as he could and she too kissed him back. Every single passion and emotion they held pouring into one another's mouths.

It was no dream, but fate smiling down at him in the form of Elizaveta.

* * *

><p>AN: hello again! chapter nine down, one or two more to go. and i'm moving in two days EEK! well needless to say im exhausted, and i hope it didn't show in this chappie. For all you history junkies reading this, I know some of the events i relate the characters too are true, but i'm not 100% sure of their reliability because it has been a year and a summer since i've studied world history in school. so if i'm incorrect or inaccurate im sincerely sorry, but hopefully this fic will inspire you to write your own pruhun soviet union fix that is as historically accurate as you want it to be.

also some of you have asked if I am going to kill him or not and to that I say...TBD...aka when final chapter comes out. So i can only ask for your patience...again.

Also Pruhun is historically canon...even though it was very brief. It still rocks!

~See ya~


	10. Chapter 10

**The Dark Side of the Wall**

**Chapter Ten**

The blood rushed back into his legs with a searing jolt from their lack of use, while his stiff shoulders told a different story. Rolling them they stretched and cracked in their joints, while his toes tingled in their boots. Despite his agony it felt good to be moving his limbs, now that they where free of their bonds.

Elizaveta had fetched what was left of his shirt from the floor and slid it on his shoulders, along with an extra jacket she had bought with her. It wasn't much, but it would do for now. At the moment their objective was escape and all the elements where against them, even time.

Helping him to his feet he wobbled and nearly tripped once or twice on his own feet for several minutes. Once that he was able to stand straight on his own she took his hand and said, "Hurry, we don't have much time."

With that they dashed up the stairs and disappeared from the dungeon-like basement, never to return again.

()()()()()()()()()()

He stood there all day. Keeping his watch at the watch tower, like any other soldier would. But his objective was different he wasn't guarding, he was waiting. Waiting for his brother.

How long had it been?

Days? Weeks? Months? Years? Decades?

Four. It had been four long decades, forty agonizing years since he had seen him, heard from him, spoke to him.

How was he? Weak? Strong? Broken? Renewed? Sick? Healthy?

Her message was so hurried and unclear. He didn't know what to expect. Only to wait for them at the designated coordinates from his side of the wall.

His boots clattered against the metal balcony as he paced back and forth, pausing every now and then to gaze out onto Russia's vast landscape, stricken white with crystal snow and bright gray skies. His heart leapt in his chest every time his gaze averted east, hoping to see him heading his way towards his home, Germany. Yet his heart sunk every time he saw an empty white landscape.

As afternoon turned into evening Ludwig found himself fingering the iron cross he always kept in his pocket, the very same cross Gilbert gave him before they where separated. The wall was erected not long after it was placed in Ludwig's palm.

It felt strange to grasp the cold iron in his palm. It was always Gilbert that bore it not Ludwig, his weak younger brother. Nowadays people would disagree with that, but this generation hadn't lived through with them through their centuries together. It was Gilbert's Teutonic Knights that had the strength to attempt to restore him as the Holy Roman Empire, it was Gilbert that strengthened his military force and led his troops into battle as the elite force of Europe several times. He was strong because Gilbert made him strong.

Did Gilbert give him the cross for the strength? To carry on proudly as a country without him?

He was doing fine without him, but he was his brother, he missed him and he looked forward to their reunion. He wanted to see Gilbert proudly bear his cross again.

A siren sounded. Its high pitched frequency ringing in his ears as red lights flashed and swirled on the walls opposite end. Someone had crossed the eastern border and was heading for the wall.

Ludwig jumped from his thoughts, snapping his binoculars up to his eye level peering over the eastern border. His blue eyes shot north and south, up and down the wall repeatedly, searching for any sign that Gilbert was near.

Heart hammering in his chest, he found him, slowly making his way across the barren landscape with Elizaveta, as the sirens blared around them and their faces marked with anxiety and fear. He swallowed sadness upon seeing Gilbert's state: a slight limp in one leg, his frame unnaturally thin, and his face pale and sickly.

The runaway pair had their hands enlaced together, and for the first time that day Ludwig found himself smiling.

"Its about time, bruder."

* * *

><p>AN: Hello again! sorry about the delay, I've been busy adjusting to college life and studying and homework and all that jazz. But nevertheless I found time to write and update, so thank you boring weekends and professors that don't like homework! Also since i'm an english major in a honors english course and writing a ton of creative essays and stuff, I hope the techniques I've picked up in that class showed up in this chapter.

So please read and review! I LLLLLOOOOOOVVVVVEEEEEEE feedback of all sorts!

oh and before I forget, to all Prussia fans you need to see this movie **THE RED BARON. **The WWI fighting ace, not only do they actually acknowledge the Prussian empire which most films don't do, but the way they portrayed the characters makes it so easy to typecast, I mean they might as well have used just the hetalia characters cause they are so similar in personality and even looks. The red baron is prussia obviously and...you just need to see it, its such an awesome movie!

Don't know when I'll update again, but until then enjoy this chapter and watch that movie cause its so worth it!

-See ya!

**I own nothing and make no profit whatsoever!**


	11. Chapter 11

**The Dark Side of the Wall**

**Chapter 11**

The winter air felt like nails swirling within his lungs and throat, yet despite his agony, he kept going.

The winds where sharp and blew straight through his clothing, nipping at his flesh, yet he kept going.

His whole body rattled with pain with every step he took, yet he kept going.

A gun fired. The shot rang in his ears. He was not far behind. Yet he kept going.

A bullet whizzed past his head, missing the bone of his skull by a thin inch. His white hair flying array for a split second. Yet he kept going.

He would always keep going. He was too close to the wall to give up now. Way too close to freedom. He could see his brother's watchtower, with a familiar figure keeping watch on the gun-rail.

Ludwig?

He was waiting for him. His little brother _had_ missed him after all.

Did he still have the cross?

He would have smiled at the thought if another bullet didn't whizz past his didn't dare turn around. He wouldn't waste his time. He knew it was Ivan.

Despite the screaming agony in his joints he squeezed Elizaveta's hand and increased his pace. She kept up with him. Was there no limit to her strength? Gilbert would never admit it, but he wouldn't have made it this far if it wasn't for her.

He wanted to ask her. After they crossed the wall, would she still want him? Or would the world's politics and her dormant affection for ex-husband lead them separate ways, as it had in the past?

He never wanted to let her go. Never again.

A scream ripped through the air. Elizaveta's hand fell from his. He stopped in his tracks as she fell to the ground, blood staining the ivory snow.

"Liza?"

She lay in the snow, caressing the leg which now lodged a bullet, blood sleeping from the fresh wound.

He moved to help her. She pushed him away. "Go!" she screamed."Keep running!" She knew she would survive and that he wouldn't if he stayed.

The sound of Ivan's boots neared, panic set in her heart. She couldn't loose him. He didn't know just how much he meant to her.

Gilbert's face was etched with confusion. "I'll be alright, just go!" she screeched again, before he hesitantly turned away from her, continuing towards the wall.

She cringed as Ivan's shadow loomed over her, even if the smoking barrel of his pistol was aimed at the snowy ground and not her. He gazed down at her, his lilac eyes brimming with anger and a slight trace of pity.

"Please," she began with tears in her eyes. "Just let him go home. He'll die if he stays here."

"He'll die if he goes home!"

Elizaveta's ears perked up, her emeralds gazing at the large country in shock and horror.

"Did you really think that America would let a living communist territory rejoin with a capitalist state. Germany thinks he can save him by letting him live as a sovereign state under his rule but he'll be dead the minute he crosses the wall."

"But you where killing him!" she protested.

"Despite my hatred for him he would have lived through my special treatment. It was when his people began to lose faith in him that his fate was sealed. They no longer saw themselves as Prussians, just Germans. It's his own country that killed him."

Fighting back tears she yelled, "It was when you took control of him that his people lost faith. You can say differently and deny it all you want but at the heart of it all it was you, it was always you!"

Ivan's face was as solid and cold as ice, and gazed at her impassively as he reloaded another round of bullets into the pistol. The icy metal clinking inside the canister.

"I suffered because of him, from numerous wars. He deserves a brutal death, like what awaits him on the other side of the wall."

The tears began to pour from her eyes, she would loose her lifelong friend and newfound lover today. The worst part of it was that she felt a portion of the blame weigh heavily on her shoulders.

Ivan snapped the canister into place, clicking the safety off before firing several practice shots into the air.

Elizaveta's wounded leg screamed in pain as she crawled the few feet to where Ivan stood. Her cold bare hands gripped the edges of his coat, tugging on the warn threads as she pleaded. "Then re-capture him! Take him back as a prisoner! Do whatever you want with him but please don't kill him!"

She didn't notice that she was sobbing now and a part of her didn't care. She choked on her own sobs as Ivan delivered a swift kick of his heavy boot to her stomach, kicking her away leaving her lying helplessly in the snow.

"My sister will be along momentarily to help you, but until then…for Gilbert…consider this mercy."

()()()()()

One more chappie to go! Sorry about the wait but I hope it was worth it! I've been doing some research on the cold war and I hope it added some more realism to this chapter. So i hoped you enjoyed and that you will tell me what you guys think, i cannot stress enough how much I love feedback of all sorts. Hopefully I'll have the final chapter up around or before christmas. Till then :)


	12. Chapter 12

**The Dark Side of the Wall**

**Chapter 12**

Would freedom taste as sweet as it did in his dreams?

42 long years in captivity. 42 long years of bitter torture, loneliness and imprisonment.

For so long freedom seemed like the ripe red apple that was a branch to high out of his reach. Too long he had wandered in the arctic desert, now he neared the Garden of Eden and would finally taste that sweet fruit.

The wall loomed before him, stretching on for miles in either direction, distorting the horizon and blocking him from his homeland. How he hated its stone and mortar with every fiber of his being.

He would, he had to overcome it. His only other choice was death.

Digging his fingers into the wall's crevices he began to climb, the stone's rough exterior scratching his skin and cheeks.

"Gilbert?" a familiar voice rang.

His heart leapt as he scaled the wall, climbing higher and higher. Use every ounce of strength and will he possessed. The cold wind, swept through and around his body. Chilling him to the core. But yet he persisted, he had come to far to give up now.

He had to see his brother again. With him he could become strong once more and then come back for her, possibly even take revenge on the Russian that put him through hell. With or without his vendetta he had to return one day for his hungarian, an act of repentance for leaving her behind on their flight to freedom.

He suppressed the coughs that tore at his lungs. Until he crossed the wall he would remain a dying man, a dying country. He refused to be helpless and pathetic any longer.

"Gilbert!" the voice called again.

Ludwig?

Peering upwards he saw his brother's bright blue eyes. The same crystal blue, Grandpa Germania possessed when he was alive. Yet, there was worry in those eyes. Worry imbedded in a distraught face.

His nails and fingers continued to scrape painfully against the stone as he climbed. Yet he climbed faster nearing the top. He could taste freedom on his lips.

Ludwig extended a gloved hand, reaching for him as if in desperation. Gilbert extended his hand as well, his bare skin short of Ludwig's fingertips by mere centimeters.

"Bruder?"

Gunshots rang through the air. America suddenly appeared behind Germany, his pistol at the ready, aiming right at Gilbert.

More bullets flew, whizzing past the brothers heads. Both their eyes wide with horror.

Ludwig peered up to find Russia standing at the foot of the wall, reloading a small pistol.

"Back off you Commie bastard!" America screeched, his leather jacket bristling in the wind.

"Nyet! You stupid America!" Russia yelled, taking aim.

Russia and America where having it out, with the German brothers caught in the middle of it all!

More bullets flew. Gilbert screamed. Ludwig lunged for his brother's hand as his grip on the wall slackened.

Red flowers blossomed from Gilbert's torso.

"Hold on Gilbert!" Ludwig screamed, the vice like grip on Gilbert's wrist slowly slipping through his fingers.

Gilbert's eyes floated towards the sky as he hung in his brother's grasp. It had never looked so blue and bright, the air never smelled so fresh.

Then his eyes wandered toward Ludwig, a trickle of blood dripping down his chin. "Goodbye… Ludwig…Bruder..."

Another bullet flew through the air, hitting Ludwig's hand causing him to release his grasp on Gilbert.

He screamed in agony as he watched Gilbert fall, fall and fall toward the ground. Landing with a thump in the snow.

Gilbert felt his bones shatter upon landing. A broken rib puncture his lung. He lay there for several seconds gasping for breath as the Russian figure loomed over him, his gun at the ready.

One more gunshot sounded.

Freedom had never tasted so sweet.

* * *

><p>AN: Finally finished! Only took a few months, but a relaxing holiday break allowed me to finish this chappie! I tried to put together an epilogue, but every variation I wrote didn't fit right. So finally I just said screw it and uploaded it.

If you wanna know what the epilogue is, Our favorite hungarian lays a flower on Gilbert's grave. One of the flowers in her hair of course. Every variation was cheesy of course and the only thing that it got across was that I am a sappy romantic, even though hungary isn't. Pretty much she missed him, even though the rest of the world doesn't. Though there are parts of germany that actually hold the former kingdom in reverence. Mostly out of historical importance.

One more hetalia fanfic to complete, then I can finish my ATLA fics and whatever other ones I need to finish. Finishing all my fanfics is my new years resolution. Some of these stories I haven't touched in years. The readers of those must hate me by now or think I'm dead or something.

Please read and review, lemme know what you thought of this story overall. You guys have been great readers and reviewers! I hope you take an interest in my other fics as well! Luv ya! Have a wonderful Life!


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